


The Weight of Words

by Twisted_Mind



Series: 12 Days of Christmas [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-War, Power Dynamics, Snape Lives, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1645949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the 11th day of Christmas, I give you . . . emotions flying everywhere with Harry and his lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GhostxWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostxWriter/gifts).



> Originally posted Jan 14th 2013 at HP Fandom as a gift. Edited upon re-posting here. 
> 
> This was supposed to be straight-up porny goodness, but then _feelings_ snuck in, and my plans got blasted all to hell. 
> 
> Seriously? They aren't mine. I don't own them. Trust me when I say that you would know if I did, so please don't sue?

“. . . I mean, really, what better use for the Chosen One?” Draco joked, causing peals of Slytherin laughter to ring out. Even Severus was shaking with the force of his quiet mirth.  
  
It was at that moment that Harry chose to step from the shadows he’d been silently lurking in for the last fifteen minutes. “And now, I think it’s about time to go home.” If his tone was cool, then his eyes were filled with ice.  
  
Draco fought the urge to shiver as he looked up at his lover and Dominant. “Is it really time to go already?” he asked, feigning innocence. Severus didn’t bother trying to hide his smirk.  
  
“Indeed,” Harry replied, his voice hardening even further.  
  
“Oh, poor baby Draco has to go home—it’s his bedtime!” Pansy cackled.  
  
Harry turned to her, his entire being radiating frost. “Yes, Pansy. if Draco wants his life to be happy and comfortable, he will do as he’s told. A concept I’m certain you’re familiar with.”  
  
Pansy flushed, and the others in the room turned away. Even if they were never Death Eaters, many of their parents had been, and they understood all too well what Harry was alluding to. They were also reminded—rather sharply—of who it was, exactly, that had brought Voldemort and his Death Eaters down.  
  
Draco stood, and hastily made his goodbyes. Severus didn’t bother with such formalities, and merely swept away after the two younger men.  
  
When they reached the front step, Severus slid his hand into Harry’s. Draco would have liked to have done the same, but their Dom had instead gripped the blond’s bicep quite firmly, and Draco was relatively certain that protesting the hold was not only futile, but also quite foolish. Thus, with a grip on his two lovers, Harry Apparated them home.  
  
Arriving on the front step, Harry released his hold on them, and herded them both inside. Once secure behind their doors and wards, he pushed Draco towards the bathroom on the first floor. Harry didn’t speak. If Draco didn’t know what was expected of him, he was in more trouble than even he knew. Severus was similarly escorted into a bathroom, leaving Harry alone in his own ensuite.  
  
He made his shower brief, not wanting the hot water to soften his temper. Instead, he used the time to centre himself; finding a calm space from which to survey the evening's events and his disappointment in the blond sub. He found that his initial hurt and injured pride caused him to overestimate the true severity of the punishment warranted, and he worked to reign in his temper. When he had found a place of critical detachment, he concluded that while his own emotions had clouded his judgement initially, Draco’s behaviour was still inappropriate. Severus’s too, for that matter—though to an admittedly lesser extent.  
  
As he dressed in a pair of ass-hugging denims—leaving his chest and feet bare—he pondered The Severus Problem. What was fair, and how much was too much? And—most importantly—what were his feelings on the matter, and were they influencing his judgement? By the time he’d towelled his hair mostly dry and was sliding his specs back on his face, he thought he’d arrived at acceptable answers.  
  
Padding downstairs, Harry entered the room they’d set aside for their sessions. Both the other men were already there, showered and naked. Draco was kneeling in the center of the room, his eyes closed and his expression untroubled; Severus was sitting cross-legged against the far wall, his eyes more relaxed than most had ever witnessed, but still holding a touch of wariness. Harry tried to keep a grip on his emotions as the grey and black gazes met and held his own.  
  
He moved silently through the room, his bare feet making only the slightest murmur of sound against the carpet. He drew Severus to his feet, and led the older man to the east wall. Harry brought the slender wrists up over Severus’s head, breaking eye contact only to ensure that the cuffs were properly attached to both the wall and the man. He stroked a hand over Severus’s Marked arm before moving away.  
  
Harry surveyed the room and its contents with a critical eye, quickly finding what he needed, though it would require a little magical adjustment. Levitating the padded bench from the corner, Harry enlarged it before securing it to the floor in front of Severus with a strong Sticking Charm. Satisfied with the set-up, Harry then turned his attention to the henceforth ignored blond man.  
  
Winding a callused hand into Draco silky hair, Harry guided the other man none-too-gently to his feet, and then directed him to stand braced against the wall opposite from Severus. Harry placed Draco’s hands on the iron rings that hung suspended from the ceiling, and curled his hands over the blond’s before stepping back. Draco understood, and kept his hands on the rings.  
  
Harry made his way to a small, unassuming chest of drawers. The knowledge that he was pawing through the blush-worthy contents sent a sharp spike of arousal through the other two men. When he stepped back, his pockets no longer lying flat and empty, he carefully slid the drawers shut. Harry first approached Severus. His expression was unusually sombre as he brought his cupped hands to his mouth, hissing in Parseltongue. When the enchanted metal snake was then pressed to Severus’s skin, it slid languorously around his interested cock and then down around his balls. Severus groaned, frustrated, as he realized that he wouldn’t be able to come without Harry’s permission.  
  
Harry ducked his head to hide the smallest of smiles from Severus, and once he’d forced the corners of his mouth back down he returned to blond on the other side of the room. Draco was a little wary of what his lover might have brought over from the Chest of Naughty Fun, but he felt a small pulse of relief when Harry merely started kissing a trail down his alabaster throat and chest. A small moan bubbled up when the brunet started licking at his nipples. Long minutes passed with Harry sucking, licking, kissing and nipping at the small nubs until they were reddened and standing to attention. Draco’s hands flexed on the rings, but he didn’t dare let go. He simply closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the sensations his Dom was wringing from his body.  
  
That plan shot down the loo, however, when Draco suddenly felt cool metal against his chest. Grey eyes flying open, he was simultaneously horrified and aroused to see that Harry was attaching a set of nipple clamps to him. A high-pitched whine petered out as the cool touch of the metal began to give way to burning pressure. Then, and only then, did Harry once again raise cupped hands to his mouth, before allowing a second enchanted serpent to bind Draco. What had started as a promisingly pleasant night had quickly turned into something darker and more interesting, and Draco felt the familiar tumultuous mix of anticipation, trepidation, trust, and excitement.  
  
Harry carefully squeezed Draco’s hands, trying to coax them off the rings; the blond had been using them as an anchor, and his grip had left him with white knuckles and bloodless fingers. After a few minutes of work and finger flexing, Draco was being led away from the wall and iron rings, and towards Severus. He was thrilled to be heading towards the older man, but realized that Harry—the one calling the shots—may well have some devious purpose for bringing all three of them together. That thought sent an altogether different sort of thrill racing through him.  
  
Draco quickly discovered that he was right to be suspicious. Harry arranged Draco’s lithe body on the enlarged bench so that he had a lovely mouthful of Severus’s cock, but in such a way that should Draco attempt to make use of his hands he would lose his balance. While physically unbound, Draco was effectively chained in place on his hands and knees. He quieted the niggling feeling that he was missing something as he tried to focus on sucking the sinful appendage currently residing in his mouth.  
  
Draco moaned around his mouthful when Harry moved behind him to press lubed fingers into his arse, making Severus groan deeply. Harry was always thorough, but this time he was so quick and efficient that Draco felt positively dirty; slick and open and achingly empty. The sound of Harry’s zipper slipping open and the rustle of denims falling to the floor made Draco pant around Severus’s prick. As Harry pressed inside him—not quickly, but in one slow, steady, powerful slide—he also reached under Draco to neatly clip slim metal chains to the clamps on his nipples. Wrapping the ends of the chains loosely around his thumbs, Harry let his hands settle on Draco’s waist as he began to thrust.  
  
Before this, Draco had been able to mostly ignore the low, steady burn caused by the clamps. Now, however, the clamps were being tweaked with every thrust as Harry’s grip tightened rhythmically on the chains and the blond’s waist. The rocking motion was also sending him lurching forward uncontrollably, with Severus’s prick forcing its way down his throat.  
  
Draco was shivering and twitching at the edge of sensory overload, caught between the pains in his chest, the feeling of Harry splitting him wide and finding his prostate, and Severus sliding in and out of his throat. The pain, pleasure, and reduced oxygen set a fire under his skin. What started as a low burn soon spread, licking through his body, burning hotter and hotter until he thought that his skin would erupt in flames. He started whimpering with the little breath he had, but it didn’t stop, only continued to increase in its intensity.  
  
As Harry plundered Draco’s body for his orgasm, he knew the time was just about right. As he started spurting deep inside Draco’s burning, shaking body, he released the magical binding around the blond’s cock, and carefully held Draco upright as he thrashed silently with the force of his release. While still semi-conscious, the younger Slytherin was hardly competent, and Harry muttered a Feather Light Charm as he scooped his lover into his arms. Nodding to Severus—a silent _I haven’t forgotten you_ —Harry carried the limp blond into the next room, and carefully laid him on the bed before returning to his still-bound lover.  
  
Harry released the older man from the cuffs, but shook his head when Severus gestured to his groin with a pointed, “And this?” Leading the frustrated man into the next room, Harry settled him on the other side of the bed before turning his attention to Draco. Harry would have liked to shower the older man with as much care as he did the younger, but Severus was set in his ways and Harry’s attempts only tended to make matters worse. In the end, Harry made sure that everything his obstinate sub needed was present, and that he was there if Severus wanted him, but instead focussed on Draco.  
  
Harry removed the clamps, chains and cock binding, spelling them clean and sending them back to their places in the chest with a few efficient flicks of his wand. Grasping one of the jars sitting on the bedside table, Harry smoothed ointment over the abused nubs, but didn’t heal them. Harry coaxed the blond into a sitting position, propped up by pillows, before he covered Draco with a blanket and stroked his face while waiting for the initial haze to recede from his mind.  
  
When it did, Draco was then carefully tucked inside Harry’s embrace, with Severus on his other side. Draco tried to relax into the soothing strokes of Harry’s hands, but found he couldn’t. Something was wrong. He struggled against his fogged brain to think clearly enough to see it. At first, he merely noticed that Severus was still wearing the enchanted cock-ring—for some reason, he hadn’t been allowed to come. That was unusual. The next fact that registered was the soreness—Harry usually healed them after a play session. For some reason, he hadn’t this time, as attested by Draco’s very sore throat and nipples.  
  
The biggest and most important sign of things being not as they should, however, was also the most obvious: Harry still hadn’t said a word. Not one since they had come home. Usually, he was a veritable chatterbox—especially during and after a scene. Now, his silence seemed dark, and heavy—not a comforting, warm weight like he usually projected, but one that felt oppressive. It scared Draco, a little.  
  
Turning in Harry’s arms so he could face him, Draco rested his hands against the other man’s chest. “What is it?” he rasped.  
  
Harry carefully turned Draco back around, so his back was cradled to Harry’s chest. Then, he spoke softly into the skin of the blond’s neck. “I heard you tonight. I heard what you said.” He turned his head slightly, so that jade green eyes could meet Severus’s gaze. “And I heard what you didn’t say.”  
  
With that, with those few words spoken in that dead, emotionless tone, Draco and Severus knew just how badly they’d fucked up. The tables turned, then; Draco rolled them so that Harry was in the center of the bed, bracketed by his lovers. They pressed in close to him, and waited. It took a few minutes before his breathing evened out and some of the tension slipped from his body as the words began trickling past his lips.  
  
“I’ve always needed to be strong for someone, and I can be this for you. For both of you,” Harry paused for a moment, before the whispered words surged forth. “But what happened tonight was unfair—and it hurt. You _both_ wanted this, and while I don’t want you to change who you are, I _need_ your respect. It’s hard enough when the rest of the Wizarding world doesn’t have the smallest shred of it for what we have, but if you two don’t . . . if that’s how it really is, then I can’t do this anymore, and it isn’t fair to ask me to.”  
  
Draco and Severus both felt deep, sharp pangs of fear at the thought of losing this, losing Harry. While they couldn’t unsay the words that had been spoken earlier in the evening, they knew that words didn’t always fix things anyway. Sometimes, words were as heavy as stones, bruising when they hit their mark. And sometimes, words were as light as air—breezy and meaningless, lacking any real substance. They were tricksters, words, and Severus had never been much good with them anyway. Not when it really counted. Draco was little better.  
  
The two of them knew that they needed to prove to Harry—their lover, their Dom, their everything that mattered—that they did respect him. If he could work so tirelessly to give them what they wanted, how could they deny him the one thing he needed? That night, they completed the circuit, giving to the giver and offering strength to the one who had always seemed impossibly strong.  
  
No words were spoken, but Harry understood just the same.  
  
  



End file.
